


President's Secretary

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Character Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-02-03
Updated: 2001-02-03
Packaged: 2019-05-15 19:06:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14796236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Different people of the West Wing reflect on their lives so far.





	President's Secretary

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

 

RATING: G  
NOTES: New series. See Part One.  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the West Wing or any of its related   
characters. Don't sue.   
SUMMARY: Different people of the West Wing reflect on their lives so   
far.

I am perfectly aware of the fact that he's not a horse. Why does   
he have such a juvenile, unhealthy attitude towards vegetables and   
nutrition? Doesn't he know it's because I care about him and I want   
him to be healthy?  
I've been working hard every day of my life for more than forty   
years. I can't recall ever having been sick (vegetables can do that   
for you) and I've always been good at what I do. I'm a good person. I   
know this.   
So why won't he just eat the raisin bran already?  
What a group we are here in this White House. I have never seen   
such a lively bunch. Even Toby can have his moments of euphoria.   
They're all so playful, and when they work, they get serious, but the   
underlying joy that comes with making a difference is always there.   
It never goes away.   
I've been working at jobs like this for as long as I can   
remember. I've worked through wars, a marriage, the birth of my   
children, the deaths of my children, the death of my husband and what   
seems like so much more. There are times when I go to the graveyard   
to visit my loved ones that I wonder about how I could have outlived   
so many people that I've loved.   
Then I think about the President, and his staff; Charlie having   
the bad luck to wake the President; Toby trying to get a cookie from   
me; Leo trying to keep everyone calm; Sam and Josh with their   
playful, boyish antics; CJ being such a strong, noble, beautiful   
woman...  
And I smile. One generation replaces the next.   
Today looks like it could be a long day. No surprise. There.   
Every day is a long day. The President has a lot of meetings today,   
crammed into one-hour chunks. I happen to know that he'll go over   
time in each and every one of those meetings. Politicians like to   
hear themselves speak; sometimes I think the President goes at the   
top of that list.   
Don't get me wrong. The President is a great man. But he does   
like to hear his own voice. Why else would he know so much trivia? He   
wants to spit it out.   
How did I get this old? I look at these young faces and each one   
feels like one of my children. Christmas isn't so bad any more,   
sharing it with these people. They feel like my children; they can't   
replace the children that I've lost, but I find that my instinct   
towards them comes just naturally maternal.  
I wonder if that makes any sense.   
I could never tell them the truth. I could never look any of   
them in the eye and tell them how strongly I feel for them. I think   
they know though. I think they realize it and they return it in   
respect. They seem to believe I could be their mother. Biologically   
it's 200% impossible, but in our hearts, we're one big family and in   
that family, the mother's role is mine.   
It's enough to make me cry sometimes, thinking about these   
people and the things they're trying to do for this glorious country;   
the country my sons gave up their lives for. I keep a strong front,   
and I try to be a strong woman for them, for the country and for   
myself. I have to be strong and hold my strong exterior for it's what   
keeps me going day by day.  
The President is finally quieting again. I think Charlie got his   
attention focused. Charlie's such a good young man. He's made my job   
so much easier. If it weren't for him, I'd probably be doing all the   
things he does. I'm proud of him. He's been through so much and he's   
come out of it all so strong. Some people his age wouldn't be able to   
handle some of the things he's gone through, and yet he comes in   
every day with a smile on his face and an eagerness to face the day.   
That usually goes away by the time he gets the President awake and   
up, but he's usually still pretty optimistic.   
It's overwhelming sometimes thinking about all the repercussions   
of working at the White House. Everyone in this building makes a   
difference, even me. At first, I question my importance here but then   
I realized that Dr. Bartlet asked me here. He appreciates my work,   
even if I do "cram oats down his throat like a horse" or whatever it   
is he's always saying. He asked me to come here and work for him.   
It's enough to make oneself proud.  
I am a strong woman. I don't need anybody to tell me that. I   
know it. My problem is that people expect me to always be strong and   
they almost seem surprised when they learn something personal about   
me. Charlie, for example, looked absolutely shocked when I told him   
that I had once had children. Does a woman my age seem like someone   
who has never had anybody? I realize that I'm a strong woman, and I   
come to work everyday, ready to work and argue with the President   
about his health, but I'm also human...  
I don't talk about myself much, I know. I just feel like no one   
wants to know anyway. We work and we go home. A line separates the   
professional and the personal, though that line can get rather thin   
from time to time. Sometimes it disappears altogether.  
I got through another Christmas. I'm proud of myself. On   
Christmas Eve, I thought of my sons and I cried, like I do every   
Christmas still to this day. I believe that I've accepted the loss,   
moved beyond it even, but on Christmas Eve, when I'm home alone and I   
start to think about the men they were going to be, I can't help   
but...  
I'm tired. Every day I come in here, my strong front attached to   
my face and my attitude and I work my hardest to be the best person I   
can be. I try not to overreact or be pushy. I try not to stand out   
too much against the grain or with it. I'm just the person in the   
background who does all she can to help the President of the United   
States.   
Thinking about my sons tears away at the strong front. Sometimes   
it tires me too. I wonder if any of these people know or wonder about   
me or the things I think about.   
I don't think so.  
I doubt it greatly.   
I've got to be getting to work. I have to get my day started.   
The President is gone along with Charlie. The office seems quiet now.   
I've sent Nancy to deliver schedules. Now I sit at my desk and just   
wonder to myself as the computer boots up. There's a certain silence   
that seems to fill the air. I feel like I could do whatever I wanted   
to and never be seen. I just can't think of anything to do but work.   
It's not that work is the only thing I think about; it's just the   
only thing I can do without letting go of some fraction of the   
personal strength that gets me through each day. I need that strong   
front, even though it hides me away from them. I know the strong   
front hides who I am from the people I work with and care about, but   
I need it to get through each day.   
It occurs to me that if I were to drop the strong front, maybe a   
little at the time, these wonderful people could become the support   
that gets me through each day. They're such helpful, caring people;   
they could very well be that support. I wonder if they would be. If   
they saw my defenses going down, would they be there for me as   
friends?  
I know they would.   
They are such wonderful people. They are. They believe I'm a   
wonderful person too. It's a sad thing that not everyone can know   
these people and realize how truly wonderful they are. Their presence   
in my life comes close to having my family back here with me. I know   
my husband and sons will be with me always, but these people are   
physically here.   
Even if they do argue about healthy foods.

***************

  


End file.
